30 August 2009
Blog Title
I really need to change the title of my blog, so as a place holder, it shall be called 'Blah Blah Blah' until I think of something better.
Popcorn
Yesterday was a very fun time- for the first time in my whole entire life, I learned how to catch popcorn in my mouth! They hit the ceiling, then somehow managed to land in my mouth. I caught thirteen of them, and then everyone except me realized how the popcorn was burnt and it had to be thrown out. They were just jealous of my popcorn catching skills. (cough cough) Yeah. Sure.
Today is Sunday, and I realized the beauty of Saturdays, because Sunday is just a day made to taunt you. Giggling and telling us to enjoy it now, because tomorrow is the beginning of a whole. New. Week.
Joy.
Sunday always has seemed like a day that shouldn't be there, like Saturday was the only real weekend and Sunday was an excuse to have seven days in a week. If Saturday and Wednesday were the days off, the world would be in perfect balance. No, wait. If there were more Harry Potter books, and the third Penderwick was out right now, and people weren't mean for the sake of being mean, and I could catch twenty pieces of poporn in my mouth in a row, my life should be perfectly perfect.
Wouldn't yours?
Today is Sunday, and I realized the beauty of Saturdays, because Sunday is just a day made to taunt you. Giggling and telling us to enjoy it now, because tomorrow is the beginning of a whole. New. Week.
Joy.
Sunday always has seemed like a day that shouldn't be there, like Saturday was the only real weekend and Sunday was an excuse to have seven days in a week. If Saturday and Wednesday were the days off, the world would be in perfect balance. No, wait. If there were more Harry Potter books, and the third Penderwick was out right now, and people weren't mean for the sake of being mean, and I could catch twenty pieces of poporn in my mouth in a row, my life should be perfectly perfect.
Wouldn't yours?
Diolouge for Sunday, August 30, 2009:
Evelyn: You told me you got it on a dig down in Thebes!
Johnathan: Yes, well, I was mistaken.
Johnathan: Yes, well, I was mistaken.
Evie: You lied to me!
Jonathan: I lie to everyone, what makes you so special?
Evelyn: I am your sister!
Jonathan: Yes, well, that just makes you more gullible.
Jonathan: I lie to everyone, what makes you so special?
Evelyn: I am your sister!
Jonathan: Yes, well, that just makes you more gullible.
-The Mummy, 1999 film
25 August 2009
Skip This Post If You're In a Bad Mood
I have overcome my depressed state. Yes, school starts tomorrow, but there's nothing I can do about it. So.
I have always scorned watching pointless videos on YouTube even though I frequently have, but I no longer do, because as I say this as I have an interest in watching a video of someone from MuggleNet eat five Big Macs because of a 'thank you' for a fundraiser. It's disgusting, but interesting. 2500 calories altogether! I have never seen the end, and I hope he doesn't vomit. Yuck.
Jamie: Why are we doing this again?
Andrew: To thank all the people that donated.
Jamie: Well, I could have just written them a card...
My friends troll through YouTube and send me random videos, some of which are completely pointless, like Redheads Protest Wendy's and the song about where the chapstick is, and some which were nice, like The Duck Song.
What a pointless post. I have nothing to say, and my rambling often makes people angry. If I have nothing to say, then I should just not speak!
But that would make people angry too, so I just pick one depending on what day it is.
Quote for Tuesday, August 25, 2009:
Some artists claim praise is irrelevant in measuring the success of art, but I think it's quite relevant. Besides, it makes me feel great.
-Chris Van Allsburg
24 August 2009
Math Homework and School OR The End of All Life
As I type this, I am doing my math homework. Every sentence means a problem. And yes, they are problems indeed.
School is starting in two days. The day of Doom approaches. There is nothing that could lift my spirits now.
23 August 2009
Ode to My Documents
My Documents are dead. The Desktop has fallen. They are coming.
By some horrid, twisted mistake, most of my documents on my computer have been deleted. The stuff I hardly ever look at were saved, but my poems? My story beginnings? All gone.
Sick, sick irony. I don't know how it happened. But I guess it's a lesson learned the hard way; always double-check everything, back things up on hard copies, and as my aunt wisely said, "Save it in multiple places."
But, even as I sob and throw a bouquet of virtual flowers on my no longer existant documents, I will look back on the things I can remember from there.
My Poems and the Notepad Gang: I Say, What I Am, From the Corner, Keyless Gate, Rhoslyn's List of Words, Words, Facts, Massacre, Unsung
The Stories, Featuring Lists and Definitions: Excerpts, V.M.D. Backpack, Marlite Legends, Odd, Storm Ferne and Martlett, HP Icons, The Story of Griselda Marchbanks
*sighs*
Pessimistic Quotes
The Wikiquote page for pessimism is so lovely that I'm putting lots of them here!
"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true." -James Branch Cabell
"If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it's the light of the oncoming train." -Robert Lowell
"There is no sadder sight than a young pessimist, except an old optimist." -Mark Twain
"Optimists are useless and merely find hope where pessimists will work." -Ben Dory
"The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised." -George F. Will
Anyone who hates these should not be afraid to let me know. (Heh heh heh...)
It's Gonna Be a Good Day
Have you ever had a day when you wake up and you just know it's going to end up beautifully? First of all, I had a brilliant idea right before I went to sleep. It was about Quinn and his brother and sisters, the Curtains story. So of course I had to write it down. I just need names for his siblings. I was thinking of naming them James, Dreia, and Gail. I'm not quite sure. I woke up and read the bit, and it was nice, in my opinion.
I finished Book One of Little Women. Sadly, I've read Book Two already, and what depresses me is that Laurie and Jo don't marry each other! That is what I hate about Jo! Otherwise she and Laurie are my favorites, but she doesn't marry him! She marries some old Professor, and Laurie marries Amy, the worst of the lot!
I'm calm now. But Louisa May Alcott made a mistake there.
And it was bright and sunny, with dew on the grass when I woke up. MuggleNet.com was updated. Wikipedia's main article was about Down With Optimism! (Well. Not really. But that's how I took it.) K woke up and behaved like a mop (that is the word 'moron' but I accidentally pressed the 'p' and spacebar. Again.) but I didn't lose my temper once!
Of course I've got a large amount of math to do, but nothing can spoil this day!
(NO! I'm not being optimistic! I know it's going to be fine! Not hoping! Knowing!)
It's a Rosalind Penderwick kind of feeling. I know that today's going to be great.
Quote for Sunday, August 23, 2009:
"More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
-Woody Allen
22 August 2009
Broken Glasses
Just to give you an adequate image of me, I wear glasses. I have for quite a long while, and if it goes on getting any worse I shall be blind. That would be awful! How would I read? How would I blog? How would I get to MuggleNet? How would I know when people are laughing at me? I wouldn't! My Auspicious End-of-August Resolution will be to take care of my glasses, because I broke them again the other day.
What I was doing with my glasses broken was wandering around the backyard, being a zombie. Zombies don't need to see. They need to be weird and awkward, and I am accomplished at both. I was avoiding K as I perfected my zombie walk, because he was attempting golf with a baseball bat, and I knew it might not end well for anyone.
I was attacking an innocent village of weeds when I was hit with a golf ball. I then decided to turn my life around, right then and there! I became...an artist!
I drew large, colorful pictures with a tub of Crayola chalk! They were good enough to see without visual aid.
Then, of course, it started to rain and my life's work was washed away. I advise all budding artists not to use chalk outside unless you want your hopes and dreams to be gone in an instant of ten-second showers!
I am getting new glasses today, and wish me luck-I hope my power doesn't go up.
What I was doing with my glasses broken was wandering around the backyard, being a zombie. Zombies don't need to see. They need to be weird and awkward, and I am accomplished at both. I was avoiding K as I perfected my zombie walk, because he was attempting golf with a baseball bat, and I knew it might not end well for anyone.
I was attacking an innocent village of weeds when I was hit with a golf ball. I then decided to turn my life around, right then and there! I became...an artist!
I drew large, colorful pictures with a tub of Crayola chalk! They were good enough to see without visual aid.
Then, of course, it started to rain and my life's work was washed away. I advise all budding artists not to use chalk outside unless you want your hopes and dreams to be gone in an instant of ten-second showers!
I am getting new glasses today, and wish me luck-I hope my power doesn't go up.
Diolouge for Saturday, August 22, 2009:
Max: “Did you know it wasn’t me, the other Max?”
Fang: “Yeah.”
Max: “When?”
Fang: “Right away.”
Max: “How? We look identical. She even had identical scars and scratches. She was wearing my clothes. How could you tell us apart?"
Fang: “She offered to cook breakfast.”
Fang: “Yeah.”
Max: “When?”
Fang: “Right away.”
Max: “How? We look identical. She even had identical scars and scratches. She was wearing my clothes. How could you tell us apart?"
Fang: “She offered to cook breakfast.”
-Maximum Ride: School's Out-Forever by James Patterson
21 August 2009
Mysterious Ways
One day you will look... back
And you'll see... where
You were held... how
By this love... while
You could stand there
You could move on this moment
Follow this feeling
That's from the U2 song Mysterious Ways. The song reminds me of certain curtains. The curtains are dark silky purple, with black velvet stars and moons all over. The mysterious curtains frame a picture window at night, sweeping the floor elegantly, gathering dust and making people sneeze. There is a group of four people sitting on the window ledge: one, a boy, dozing as he holds an open book in his hand; another, his sister, a skinny girl with dark hair, frowning and sulking with her back to the sea; their older sister, plucking nervously at a silver bracelet she's wearing, staring at the ocean as though it had taken something irreplaceable from her, long ago; and the last, the oldest brother, tall and serious, who is waking up the younger boy while keeping an eye on the shady shape lurking at the door.
The youngest boy, Quinn, wakes up and sees how the moon shines through the curtain, making it glow in the dark. Mother's favorite curtains. Do they really have to leave them behind? Now?
"Quinn, let's go!"
This scene is completely made up, of course, but the curtains, though lengthened, are not. I have them! Oh, gorgeous curtains! Lovely!
Quote for Friday, August 21, 2009:
Resolve to take fate by the throat and shake a living out of her.
-Louisa May Alcott
20 August 2009
Nerve-Wracking Wednesday and Terrifying Thursday
I hope everyone appreciates the title. You have no idea how long it took me to type that. Sad, isn't it? My mad typing skills? (I have decided from this sentence on I will not backspace anything, just so you can see how bad I am at typing.)
Well, yesterday was, of course, Wednesady (#1) I mean, Wednesday, and I had a recital. Yes, that means I sing solo for the vert (#2) I meam (#3) I MEAN the very first time in front of people. Alone. By myself. In front of people. Yipes.
And, of course, K insisted upon tapig (#4) taping it on the new video camera I won! Yes, I actually won something in a raffle!!! For the first time in my life! YES!
Other people liked how I sang, but I listebed (35 (#5 and #6)) listened to myself on the recording and I sounded awful. I sang the ABBA song "The Winner Takes It All" and it is a lovely song. Just not with my voice. (I don't speak in front of people, I don't talk (#77 (#7 and #8)) sing in front of people voluntarily.) I was shaking. But it's over.
Today was day one of math classes at the high school, and I ws (#9) was scared again, my stomach was in knots, but it was fine. As I have learned from The Penderwicks on Gardam Street, eigthm (#10) eigh (#11) eighth graders are ignored by high schoolers. So that was fine as well. No homework.
I am doon (#12) done with my experimenr (#13) experiment. Thirteen mistakes, for me, is not bad.
Well, yesterday was, of course, Wednesady (#1) I mean, Wednesday, and I had a recital. Yes, that means I sing solo for the vert (#2) I meam (#3) I MEAN the very first time in front of people. Alone. By myself. In front of people. Yipes.
And, of course, K insisted upon tapig (#4) taping it on the new video camera I won! Yes, I actually won something in a raffle!!! For the first time in my life! YES!
Other people liked how I sang, but I listebed (35 (#5 and #6)) listened to myself on the recording and I sounded awful. I sang the ABBA song "The Winner Takes It All" and it is a lovely song. Just not with my voice. (I don't speak in front of people, I don't talk (#77 (#7 and #8)) sing in front of people voluntarily.) I was shaking. But it's over.
Today was day one of math classes at the high school, and I ws (#9) was scared again, my stomach was in knots, but it was fine. As I have learned from The Penderwicks on Gardam Street, eigthm (#10) eigh (#11) eighth graders are ignored by high schoolers. So that was fine as well. No homework.
I am doon (#12) done with my experimenr (#13) experiment. Thirteen mistakes, for me, is not bad.
Quote for Thursday, August 20, 2009:
Better to be despised for too anxious apprehensions than ruined by too confident a security.
-Edmund Burke
-Edmund Burke
19 August 2009
Lying
"Have you done your homework, Freedom? I know you have that math test today. You studied, didn't you?"
"Of course! What do you think I am, a liar? You don't need to check up on me all the time, you know!" I said as I frantically looked over the study guide for the first time, stuffing it hurriedly in my bag as my mother came up the stairs.
That happened once, in sixth grade. Naturally, I aced the test, but that's not the point, really. Kind of, but no. (An "A." 97%, people!) There was this study on the Yahoo! homepage, the recent news part, that people lie. A lot and unconsciously. And my mother-and maybe even my brother-will be perfectly happy to let you know that I am no exception.
I found this-the study, not my compulsive lying-very interesting. Especially the part that said humans are programmed to lie. That people lie three times in ten minutes while getting acquainted. What would the world be without lying, do you think? Better, or worse?
On the one hand, there couldn't be any lying, about anything. I suppose that's very good. No lying about anything shady or anything like that. But what if just telling the truth, that thing that is so revered, you could wipe out a whole species of animal? What if you lose a friend because of blunt honesty, you tell a secret that they trusted you with? What if you make a friend because of your honesty?
Enough 'what ifs.' (What if I finally shut up? Yeah, right.)
I guess lying is okay, in moderation. You will have no life whatsoever and will probably end up completely alone in life if you tell either lies or the truth all the time.
But I guess that was obvious. Unless you're a liar.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20090819/hl_time/08599191721500
"Of course! What do you think I am, a liar? You don't need to check up on me all the time, you know!" I said as I frantically looked over the study guide for the first time, stuffing it hurriedly in my bag as my mother came up the stairs.
That happened once, in sixth grade. Naturally, I aced the test, but that's not the point, really. Kind of, but no. (An "A." 97%, people!) There was this study on the Yahoo! homepage, the recent news part, that people lie. A lot and unconsciously. And my mother-and maybe even my brother-will be perfectly happy to let you know that I am no exception.
I found this-the study, not my compulsive lying-very interesting. Especially the part that said humans are programmed to lie. That people lie three times in ten minutes while getting acquainted. What would the world be without lying, do you think? Better, or worse?
On the one hand, there couldn't be any lying, about anything. I suppose that's very good. No lying about anything shady or anything like that. But what if just telling the truth, that thing that is so revered, you could wipe out a whole species of animal? What if you lose a friend because of blunt honesty, you tell a secret that they trusted you with? What if you make a friend because of your honesty?
Enough 'what ifs.' (What if I finally shut up? Yeah, right.)
I guess lying is okay, in moderation. You will have no life whatsoever and will probably end up completely alone in life if you tell either lies or the truth all the time.
But I guess that was obvious. Unless you're a liar.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20090819/hl_time/08599191721500
Quote for Wednesday, August 19, 2009:
Don’t lie, but don’t tell the whole truth.
-Baltasar Gracián, Maxim 181, The Art of Worldly Wisdom (1647)
16 August 2009
Yuck. It's Seventh Grade.
I was reading the fabulous blog of Libba Bray, the author of A Great and Terrible Beauty, and the most recent post was of something that I hated.
http://libba-bray.livejournal.com/50319.html
YUCK! I hated seventh grade. Hated, hated, hated, with every fiber of my being. Sixth grade was just bad, but seventh grade was sixth grade with a dollop of stress added on top. And poison. And rat's tails. Not cool. It seemed like every single person was growing up exept for me. I don't want to grow up, of course, and I'm trying not to, but it's very depressing when people become bratty idiots who you cannot stand for more then three minutes.
And one commenter said something extremely lovely, not to go to school dances, that's the solution.
Why do they even have school dances? No one even dances. It's just an excuse to waste lots of time and money going and embarassing yourself. I went to two dances in sixth grade and I never will again. It was a scarring experience. And Libba's discription does not make me eager to go to anything else.
http://libba-bray.livejournal.com/50319.html
YUCK! I hated seventh grade. Hated, hated, hated, with every fiber of my being. Sixth grade was just bad, but seventh grade was sixth grade with a dollop of stress added on top. And poison. And rat's tails. Not cool. It seemed like every single person was growing up exept for me. I don't want to grow up, of course, and I'm trying not to, but it's very depressing when people become bratty idiots who you cannot stand for more then three minutes.
And one commenter said something extremely lovely, not to go to school dances, that's the solution.
Why do they even have school dances? No one even dances. It's just an excuse to waste lots of time and money going and embarassing yourself. I went to two dances in sixth grade and I never will again. It was a scarring experience. And Libba's discription does not make me eager to go to anything else.
Quote for Sunday, August 16, 2009:
Do not take life too seriously; you will never get out of it alive.
-Elbert Hubbard
15 August 2009
School Shopping
Does anyone else here enjoy back to school shopping? It sends me into a frenzy, of course, because I worry about everything, but if I ever stopped worrying I'm sure I'd love it. It has an evil sense of foreboding, naturally, but I like the smell and the look of it all. The smell of freshly sharpened pencils with their sharp silvery points, pink rubber erasers that you can flip around on your desk, new bookcovers, packs upon packs of fresh, white lined paper that just beg to be written on....
If I sound vaguely dorkish, let me assure you lot- I hate going to school. If we could just shop for school supplies, and everyday I would just stare at it very admiringly and not use/break/smudge/chomp/lose/lend any of it, EVER, that would be fine by me.
Dialouge for Saturday, August 15, 2009:
Artemis: Holly, how did you find me?
Holly: Oh, I saw a huge explosion and wondered: now, who could that be?
-Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox by Eion Colfer
14 August 2009
More About Books
Today, instead of doing math while eating breakfast, I was reading a book (of course). Saffy's Angel, by Hilary McKay.
I've read this book about thrice in the past eleven months. (I believe in Jane Penderwick's rule- once you have read a book, you cannot, simply cannot read it again until it's a few months later.) For some of my friends, that is two times too many. No one I know has read Harry Potter as many times as I believe I have, for instance. The Penderwicks on Gardam Street? I'm famous in class for reading that about six times during the year. But the Cassons, it's something new each time I read the series, because as the books progress, the characters change so much. It's nice going back to Saffy's Angel and seeing Indigo Casson as an anxious little boy who was scared of heights, or Permanent Rose as so very impermanent, or Saffron as so fierce and doing her homework on the bus. (Do you know how strict Saffy and Sarah are about homework now?)
But that's why I reread books too many times (in my mother's opinion. Especially Harry Potter.) because each time, you find something new, a witty line your favorite character said that you missed the first time around, a whole (gasp!) page that you didn't read, little bits of foreshadowing that you'd only know the second time. It's kind of like finding out pleasant secrets from your best friend. You notice things that seem out of character, things that make you go "I like that guy," to your very confused brother/cousin, anything. There's a little bit of magic in that, I think. Kind of like a friend. And nowadays, we need all the magic we can get.
I've read this book about thrice in the past eleven months. (I believe in Jane Penderwick's rule- once you have read a book, you cannot, simply cannot read it again until it's a few months later.) For some of my friends, that is two times too many. No one I know has read Harry Potter as many times as I believe I have, for instance. The Penderwicks on Gardam Street? I'm famous in class for reading that about six times during the year. But the Cassons, it's something new each time I read the series, because as the books progress, the characters change so much. It's nice going back to Saffy's Angel and seeing Indigo Casson as an anxious little boy who was scared of heights, or Permanent Rose as so very impermanent, or Saffron as so fierce and doing her homework on the bus. (Do you know how strict Saffy and Sarah are about homework now?)
But that's why I reread books too many times (in my mother's opinion. Especially Harry Potter.) because each time, you find something new, a witty line your favorite character said that you missed the first time around, a whole (gasp!) page that you didn't read, little bits of foreshadowing that you'd only know the second time. It's kind of like finding out pleasant secrets from your best friend. You notice things that seem out of character, things that make you go "I like that guy," to your very confused brother/cousin, anything. There's a little bit of magic in that, I think. Kind of like a friend. And nowadays, we need all the magic we can get.
Quote for Friday, August 14, 2009:
Anybody who watches three games of football in a row should be declared brain dead.
-Erma Bombeck
13 August 2009
Random, Completely Uncalled For Explaination
I have decided to explain the name of my blog, Everlasting_Freedom. This is because soon, I will have no time to do anything whatsoever, and I had better explain right now.
The first one is obvious. My name. I used to think about what it would be like to be immortal. When I was younger, I really wanted to be. As I grew up, I thought that it would be scary and boring to live forever. So maybe I could be Everlasting in a different way? I have no idea.
Next is, of course, a story I began! In that story, a character, named Ferne, started a blog. She used a fake name, Freedom R.A.S. Her username, for everything, was everlasting_freedom. I wanted to use that somehow, so I named my blog Everlasting_Freedom. I don't write about freedom, but I think the name is lovely. And someone who does want to write about actual freedom is free to use it.
I will be very surprised if anyone really cares about this, but it's just one more thing you know. You can brag about this fact, that you know why my blog is named thus, and cause general confusion, if you want. I would be extremely pleased.
Back from NYC, but mostly Penderwicks
I, Freedom R.A.S., am back from New York! It was, of course, completely brilliant, especially Times Square, Rockefeller Plaza, and the Empire State Buliding. Chiron, from the Percy Jackson series was right, the Greek gods and goddesses are everywhere. Quite frankly, I am glad to be home. I really appreciate where I live now.
I have mentioned The Penderwicks, I believe? The series by Jeanne Birdsall is fantastic, and I finished reading the sequel, The Penderwicks on Gardam Street, for about the twelfth time. I adore that book, even more than the first one, probably because the readers get a glimpse into the Penderwicks' home life. Jane and Skye, I think, get a better part in this book, and Batty becomes more of a person, to me. And Rosalind is not lovestruck. That's always a bonus.
But the thing about reading any of the Penderwick books is that in the slight euphoria I get after reading one, I start to believe that the books could happen. I know they can't. My cousin, J, even made up a genre for books that are simply too perfect to happen, but are written like they could. (The Casson family books, by Hilary McKay, also fall under this genre.)
But even the little things that go on in their lives, that could only happen not to me, oh, I am so jealous of! I want to recite a poem by Shakespeare that confuses everyone so they don't know it's about love! I want to spy on my red-headed neighbors through the forsynthia hedge! (Too bad we don't have red-headed neighbors or a forsynthia hedge.) I would love to live near a Quigley Woods-like place!
I guess I'll just have to make do. It's like I'm being openly taunted when I read these books, like: Ha ha! Nah nah nah nah boo boo! We can do all of this and you can't! But I suppose the whole magic of these books is because it's not happening to me. And B, J, and K are all perfectly anoying sometimes, but I suppose we're sort of Penderwick-ish when we're all in the same place. I have no idea what I would do with any more sibling-like relatives. Not to mention how crazy everyone else would go.
Quote for Thursday, August 13, 2009:
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
-Hamlet, from Hamlet, scene ii, by William Shakespeare
8 August 2009
Where in the World is Freedom R.A.S.?
Guess where I am? If you're smart, you should know, seeing as you are, you know, smart.
I am going to New York with my family! YAHOO! *dances merrily*
Right now I am in a hotel lobby in Pittsburgh, right after breakfast. Nothing much has happened so far, but I will try to do my Tom Levin picture gallery. Have I explained this? If not, when I get the pictures on here, I will explain. New York promises to be fantastic!
I've got to go- K is being crabby and saying my blog posts are way too long, just because he wants to use the computer- so I will tell you more once I get to a computer next and K is not around.
I am going to New York with my family! YAHOO! *dances merrily*
Right now I am in a hotel lobby in Pittsburgh, right after breakfast. Nothing much has happened so far, but I will try to do my Tom Levin picture gallery. Have I explained this? If not, when I get the pictures on here, I will explain. New York promises to be fantastic!
I've got to go- K is being crabby and saying my blog posts are way too long, just because he wants to use the computer- so I will tell you more once I get to a computer next and K is not around.
6 August 2009
Grammar
I am a person who is half disppointed and half relieved when it comes time to get back to school. Disappointed because, in that dreamy month of June, I have lots of plans to do something amazing, perhaps several amazing things over the course of those three months. And I do nothing. Basically, I read a lot. I write a lot. And guess what? That's nothing special, in case you hadn't noticed.
And relieved because I am utterly paranoid. (Almost Foaly-like paranoid.) During the summer, I get the strange feeling that everything I know is slowly but surely leaking out through my ears. I imagine the stuff as color coded: silvery-grey for math, bright red for social studies, etc. "Look, there's the Egyptian unit! Oh, remember that five-paragraph essay I wrote? And the poems!" It's awful. I feel really stupid.
This year, I'm relieved, mostly, to return to school, even if this year I'm entering an evil, evil grade, because of my grammar. It's suffering, and so is my spelling. I am a teenager, for Pete's sake, I should know how to spell 'know'. And I cannot stand spending much more time with my brother. (No offense.) I can't wait for the slightly less mature antics of my fellow classmates. (I can hear my mother scoffing. It's impossible to count how many times last year I said I hated going to school.) (At least there I can glower and scowl to my heart's content.)
And relieved because I am utterly paranoid. (Almost Foaly-like paranoid.) During the summer, I get the strange feeling that everything I know is slowly but surely leaking out through my ears. I imagine the stuff as color coded: silvery-grey for math, bright red for social studies, etc. "Look, there's the Egyptian unit! Oh, remember that five-paragraph essay I wrote? And the poems!" It's awful. I feel really stupid.
This year, I'm relieved, mostly, to return to school, even if this year I'm entering an evil, evil grade, because of my grammar. It's suffering, and so is my spelling. I am a teenager, for Pete's sake, I should know how to spell 'know'. And I cannot stand spending much more time with my brother. (No offense.) I can't wait for the slightly less mature antics of my fellow classmates. (I can hear my mother scoffing. It's impossible to count how many times last year I said I hated going to school.) (At least there I can glower and scowl to my heart's content.)
Quote for Thursday, August 6, 2009:
"No matter how long you teach a fool, he still knows everything."
-Leonid S. Sukhorukov, All About Everything (2005)
5 August 2009
How to Kill an Artemis Fowl Character
SPOILER WARNING: If you are not through reading Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony (and maybe some of the other books) skip this post.
I have just finished reading Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony, and I am angry. Angry, angry, angry. The ending- well, not quite. The entire book had me feeling like I wanted to snap something in half, mainly whenever a certain character was mentioned/made an apperance. That character was Minerva Paradizo.
A few days ago, I was at my local bookstore. My mother said I could buy a book, so I was wandering around the Percy Jackson/Artemis Fowl display. (Gah! The Last Olympian was $15!) I had just finished Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception, and was eager to get to the library to get The Lost Colony. I picked up the book to read the back, and when I got to the last sentence I put the book down as though it was on fire. The sentence was:
I have just finished reading Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony, and I am angry. Angry, angry, angry. The ending- well, not quite. The entire book had me feeling like I wanted to snap something in half, mainly whenever a certain character was mentioned/made an apperance. That character was Minerva Paradizo.
A few days ago, I was at my local bookstore. My mother said I could buy a book, so I was wandering around the Percy Jackson/Artemis Fowl display. (Gah! The Last Olympian was $15!) I had just finished Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception, and was eager to get to the library to get The Lost Colony. I picked up the book to read the back, and when I got to the last sentence I put the book down as though it was on fire. The sentence was:
And she was only twelve years old...
I read an excerpt at the end of The Opal Deception, and Artemis was being pubescent and noticing girls all over the place, and my immediate reaction was to think: My goodness, this does not bode well. No, Artemis, no!
Guess what? As usual, I was right. Every time Minerva Paradizo spoke (mostly when she was mentioned by Artemis) I had to sit on my hands to avoid breaking something. A vase... a pencil... Minerva Paradizo's curly blonde head...
And at the end Butler said that she was pretty and sharp and could give Artemis a run for his money at chess....
NO. NO. NO.
And The Time Paradox is checked out of the library and I can't see if Minerva falls into a volcano to meet her fiery death! Is killed by Butler on Artemis's command! Is stabbed between the eyes with a paper clip! Better yet, I hope she doesn't show up at all. To some, she may be a decent character. I hate her.
[after several minutes of thought]
Guess what? As usual, I was right. Every time Minerva Paradizo spoke (mostly when she was mentioned by Artemis) I had to sit on my hands to avoid breaking something. A vase... a pencil... Minerva Paradizo's curly blonde head...
And at the end Butler said that she was pretty and sharp and could give Artemis a run for his money at chess....
NO. NO. NO.
And The Time Paradox is checked out of the library and I can't see if Minerva falls into a volcano to meet her fiery death! Is killed by Butler on Artemis's command! Is stabbed between the eyes with a paper clip! Better yet, I hope she doesn't show up at all. To some, she may be a decent character. I hate her.
[after several minutes of thought]
I suppose that's unfair. It's not her fault. Oh well. I can't control what happens, that's the good part.
Quote for Today, Wednesday, Because I Am Done With Makeup Quotes:
We hate some persons because we do not know them; and we will not know them because we hate them.
-Charles Caleb Colton
Oh, U2!
One of my New Year's Resolutions was to get more into music. I was very limited in my choice of music, and I knew it. And I think my music choices have certainly gotten broader and better.
Recently, I was reading The Artemis Fowl Files by Eoin Colfer, and Butler's interview said that U2's song I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For could have been written for Artemis. He (Artemis) is my favorite character, so naturally I went to YouTube and looked up 'u2 i still haven't found what i'm looking for'.
Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.
How have I not heard them before? Of course, I've heard of them, but I didn't know anything about them, or their songs. I guess I didn't think they were much.
That is the exact kind of music I think I've always wanted to listen to, but I didn't think that anyone wrote that kind of music. I was amazed. Intelligently, I shall say again: Wow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fBj2wsimvQ&feature=related
Recently, I was reading The Artemis Fowl Files by Eoin Colfer, and Butler's interview said that U2's song I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For could have been written for Artemis. He (Artemis) is my favorite character, so naturally I went to YouTube and looked up 'u2 i still haven't found what i'm looking for'.
Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.
How have I not heard them before? Of course, I've heard of them, but I didn't know anything about them, or their songs. I guess I didn't think they were much.
That is the exact kind of music I think I've always wanted to listen to, but I didn't think that anyone wrote that kind of music. I was amazed. Intelligently, I shall say again: Wow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fBj2wsimvQ&feature=related
Old Friends
I've moved a couple of times in my life. And the first thing I hated about moving was leaving the house. I grow extremely attached to the house. And then comes leaving the people. When we lived close to my cousins, I hated leaving the people more than the house, though I did love the house dearly. (All the trouble I take to make friends, and then we move!)
Of all the times we moved, that is the one time I remember and it was hard. I had about fifty million friends and three or four best friends, because I was just about the most popular person in the grade. You would think that with all these friends, and the amount of tears there were when we left, we would keep in touch. Nope. Never. Not once. Not to say that I tried.
After we moved to where we are now, one of my best friends in second grade, Elizabeth, moved. She wrote me a letter, but I never wrote back. I move on from friend to friend pretty fast. If someone doesn't bother to be there, I start again, making new friends until they move away.
A while ago, my mother told me that one of my very best friends from before we moved had moved away from her house. Now I can't even picture her any more. Because we don't keep in touch, I can imagine what they're doing, based on what I remember, which, sadly, is not much. Even with the power of imagination vested in me, I cannot see them any way besides the way they were when we left. Obviously, it's been six years, they'd have grown up, and if they were such brilliant friends of mine, I should know they're like. Even considering this, I think I prefer them as they were six years ago. I don't think that's a bad thing.
Of all the times we moved, that is the one time I remember and it was hard. I had about fifty million friends and three or four best friends, because I was just about the most popular person in the grade. You would think that with all these friends, and the amount of tears there were when we left, we would keep in touch. Nope. Never. Not once. Not to say that I tried.
After we moved to where we are now, one of my best friends in second grade, Elizabeth, moved. She wrote me a letter, but I never wrote back. I move on from friend to friend pretty fast. If someone doesn't bother to be there, I start again, making new friends until they move away.
A while ago, my mother told me that one of my very best friends from before we moved had moved away from her house. Now I can't even picture her any more. Because we don't keep in touch, I can imagine what they're doing, based on what I remember, which, sadly, is not much. Even with the power of imagination vested in me, I cannot see them any way besides the way they were when we left. Obviously, it's been six years, they'd have grown up, and if they were such brilliant friends of mine, I should know they're like. Even considering this, I think I prefer them as they were six years ago. I don't think that's a bad thing.
Quote for Some Day I Missed:
A friendship that can be ended didn't ever start.
-Mellin de Saint-Gelais, Oeuvres poétiques
Songs in a Circle
I am sorry I've not been blogging for several days. I'll catch up on posts, hopefully. The only disadvantage is that there won't be any quotes for those days. Ah well. Maybe I'll do several quotes today.
I am one of those random people who always has a certain song or fifty-three million playing in my head all at the same time. Lately, it's been Harry and the Potters, and their song We Save Ron's Life, Part 8. Very amusing. He does save Ron a lot. (Look! Even my music is Harry Potter related!)
What I find horrible is when a song is awful, just horrid-ness put to music, and you can't get it out of your head! Or the lyrics are awful, or something, and it's like glue. Gah! Some of these songs come from my brother, of course, because our tastes are so different it's just irritating. (He enjoys game shows when people fall off of large objects and into vanilla pudding. He watches them religiously and will cry if he misses it. I don't. Enough said.)
Sometimes though, it's very useful to have some mindless music going on in your head all the time, because if someone is bullying you (say, making you walk across a large object under which there is a whole mess of vanilla pudding) or yelling at you (about having vanilla pudding on your new shirt), you can play some song, and nothing but the lyrics will register.
Of course, if you begin to sing the song out loud (yes, I've done that) you could get into trouble, but playing a song in a loop in your head is convenient and completely useful.
I am one of those random people who always has a certain song or fifty-three million playing in my head all at the same time. Lately, it's been Harry and the Potters, and their song We Save Ron's Life, Part 8. Very amusing. He does save Ron a lot. (Look! Even my music is Harry Potter related!)
What I find horrible is when a song is awful, just horrid-ness put to music, and you can't get it out of your head! Or the lyrics are awful, or something, and it's like glue. Gah! Some of these songs come from my brother, of course, because our tastes are so different it's just irritating. (He enjoys game shows when people fall off of large objects and into vanilla pudding. He watches them religiously and will cry if he misses it. I don't. Enough said.)
Sometimes though, it's very useful to have some mindless music going on in your head all the time, because if someone is bullying you (say, making you walk across a large object under which there is a whole mess of vanilla pudding) or yelling at you (about having vanilla pudding on your new shirt), you can play some song, and nothing but the lyrics will register.
Of course, if you begin to sing the song out loud (yes, I've done that) you could get into trouble, but playing a song in a loop in your head is convenient and completely useful.
Quote for Some Day I Missed:
Music makes one feel so romantic - at least it always gets on one's nerves - which is the same thing nowadays.
-Oscar Wilde